


Snow On The Roof

by mackenziebutterschnapps (hannibalsbattlebot)



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Bottom Will Graham, M/M, Post-Finale, age kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-19
Updated: 2015-09-19
Packaged: 2018-04-21 13:42:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4831190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannibalsbattlebot/pseuds/mackenziebutterschnapps
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Response to a Tumblr prompt for Hannigram "age kink" (not age play.) There's an age gap between Hannibal and Will and it turns out they are both kind of into that.</p><p>I don't know if I did this right, but here it is: Will shaves, and his new baby face sets off a domino effect of reactions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snow On The Roof

"I do this every spring when the weather warms up," Will said, rubbing his hand over his newly-smooth chin. "I don't know why you look so surprised."

Hannibal had known Will five years and had never seen him clean-shaven. It took him a moment to realize that, between prison sentences and his time as a fugitive, they had never spent a spring free and together.

"I'll grow it back," Will said, in a put-upon tone that made it clear that he meant "eventually."

"You look wonderful," Hannibal said turning his attention back to his book. "It's very becoming."

Will had always looked younger than his years. Hannibal considered himself (although he shuddered to use the phrase) _well-preserved_ , but prison had aged him. He looked his age now, which wasn't necessarily a bad thing. He had the attitude and bearing to carry silver at the temples and look distinguished, but his era of dewy innocence was well over.

Not so with Will.

He closed his book without bothering to mark his place. "I feel like I'm looking back in time," Hannibal said. "You must have looked very much the same when you were in the college."

"Back then I didn't have this," Will said, tracing the scar on his cheek with the tip of his pinky finger.

Hannibal thought Will looked better with a scar. Unobscured now after this spring shearing, it was a slash of dramatic pink, leading his gaze down a slope that pointed towards the corner of Will's mouth. His scar was like salt on chocolate, making everything else sweeter.

Hannibal didn't know how to say this in a way that didn't sound false or like he was praising the evidence of violence left behind. This was a touchy subject they often found themselves stepping around on short notice. 

He rose and kissed Will on the cheek that had the scar but, carefully, not on the scar itself.

"I never considered that growing old together meant I would get there so far ahead," Hannibal said "since it seems you refuse to follow me."

"This is the problem with counting on your own death. Live fast, die young, leave a blood-soaked corpse behind," Will said. He lowered his chin and started unbuttoning Hannibal's shirt. "Not leaving a body that shows the experience of a life lived on the razor's edge."  He raked his fingers through the hair on his chest. "Every gray hair you have is a miracle. It means you survived."

"You survived," Hannibal said, smoothing Will's hair with the back of one hand, admiring its dark lush sheen.

"I have my proof in scars. Different language, same message."

 

Will unbuttoned his shirt, shrugging one shoulder out and then the other. While he shed his clothes, he peeled away the years and became that young man who couldn't shoot a gun, who had no home, who had never tasted any blood but his own.

Hannibal's heart beat faster. He had corrupted many innocents, but not like this. He never wanted to until now. That was never his desire. Even now, snugly in middle age, when he was sure he had cataloged the depth and breadth of every human drive and emotion, he was finding a new dimension of want. He felt weak and appallingly grateful at the thought that Will was giving him a whole new facet of himself to explore.

"Exceptional boy," he said. He reached out and with the tips of two fingers on Will's stomach, careful again to avoid the scar, and then around, over the curve of his hip and down his back. He explored the newly disclosed inches of skin on Will's jaw and cheeks with his mouth, then kissed places more familiar but no less tantalizing. He lifted Will up off his feet, set him down on the bed and took a step back to look at him.

Will allowed this for a moment and then sat up. "Are you going to fuck me or put me in a museum?"

 

Will wasn't a handsome man, he knew that, but in their more intimate moments he could almost see himself through Hannibal's eyes. Hannibal's complements might be false flattery, but there was no faking the almost reverent way Hannibal handled him, as though he were precious. Will didn't like to think of this in terms or hunger or appetite, but how else could he think of it when hands skimmed over him only briefly, followed at length by lips, tongue and occasionally teeth?

There wasn't much tooth to his bite tonight. Other than a small nip to his thigh, Hannibal was soft and slightly hesitant. When they had fucked before, Will tried to pace himself, without being too obvious, to the stamina of his partner. This younger version of him had no such temperance and he allowed himself to be insatiable, insistent and demanding.  He bucked up into Hannibal's mouth and grabbed two fistfuls of his hair. Wordlessly, Will dared him to be rough, but Hannibal moved his mouth and tongue with steady patience. He braced one hand on the place where Will's thigh and hip met. He wouldn't be rushed by Will's impatience and his graceless hair-pulling. He waited until he was ready to deliver the _coup de grace._ When he slid his finger inside him and coaxed a climax from him, it would be on his own schedule.

Hannibal thought he had him wrung out, sweaty and spent, but Will took a single deep breath, pushed the damp hair away from his face and gave him the conflicting message of wrapping one hand around his hard cock while at the same time saying, "Do you need a break?"

If he could take the lead, Hannibal thought, he could set the pace with some dignity instead of panting for mercy. The delicate treatment was over. Hannibal moved Will's hand and held him down by the wrist.

Hannibal rested a little more of his weight on him. Will remembered an old saying, the horse always knows the weight of its rider. It was supposed to be about withstanding burdens, but if the rider treated the horse well, wouldn't it associate a particular heft with pleasant feelings and come to welcome it?

He liked the solid bulk of Hannibal between his legs. When he wanted to, Hannibal could be an immovable force mentally and physically. This is why Will found his half-serious comments about his age ridiculous. Time might make a stone weathered and craggy, but it remains a stone. In the years Will had been ill at ease with himself and with the whole world, this was what he didn't know he needed. Someone reliably strong enough that Will would not hurt them, who he also trusted enough not to hurt him. He didn't dwell on the irony that he had found this balance with the man who had twice taken a blade to his flesh. A blade wasn't personal. Will only counted what Hannibal did with his hands.

He tried to wriggle out of Hannibal's grip, but it remained tight enough to hold him. Will bent his leg, wedging it between them. Hannibal swept it to the side and pinned it in place with his own body. Will was jack knifed now and presumably immobile.  Hannibal was aroused in an animal heat, overstimulated, if he were to be honest. But now that he had Will pinned, he entered him and moved inside him as he intended. Slowly.

Hannibal had his eyes closed, head turned to the side with that slight smile that Will thought of as his listening face. It really meant he was concentrating on all his other senses except sight, relaxed and savoring what he was taking in.

Will couldn't release his one leg, so he raised his other knee to match. He squeezed Hannibal's rib cage between his knees and then crossed his ankles effortless behind his back.

Hannibal sucked air through gritted teeth. "Are you comfortable?" he asked. Will was folded nearly in half.

"Very," he said, shifting and somehow, against the reasonable rules of anatomy, pulling his knees farther back, opening up more. "I can't quite get my ankles behind my ears, but I bet I could get them behind yours."

 _Fuck_ , Hannibal either said or thought, as Will clamped down his legs and held him in place while he came.

 

He collapsed on to his back, waiting to regain his wits enough to monitor his own pulse. It was okay. Probably.

He tried not to suck air.

Will looked very satisfied with himself, unfolding one leg and then another, shaking them out like he had just had a nice jog. He kissed Hannibal and put his head on his chest. His hand was restless, sketching out circles and serpentine curves.

"Are you going to sleep?" he said. "Don't." With Will pressed fully against him, Hannibal could feel his renewed arousal. "Not yet."

 

Fuck.

 

**Author's Note:**

> The title comes from the saying "Snow on the roof, but a fire in the furnace," meaning an older gentleman may have gray hair on top, but there's still a fire down below.


End file.
